


One Thousand Years More

by LittleBlueNayru



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Iceland is big mood, Multi, Other, Paintball, Teenagers and their damn hormones and mood swings and shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 12:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBlueNayru/pseuds/LittleBlueNayru
Summary: Putting politics aside, two nations try to find companionship to fill the holes left by their loneliness.POSTED ON AO3 FOR LEIF ERIKSON DAY





	One Thousand Years More

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe putting this on AO3 will get my lazy ass working on this again because OTPlz except why am I writing feelings

"Big Brother."  
  
"No."  
  
"Big Brother."  
  
"I'm not saying it."  
  
"Big Brother."  
  
"I refuse to say it."  
  
"Big Brother…"  
  
This time Iceland decided not to respond to his … big brother's… prodding, even knowing that Norway was genuinely enjoying himself behind his blank face. The rather constant insistence on calling Norway "big brother" seemed to consume his fellow Northern Europeans this morning… because they apparently had nothing better to do. Regardless of what they said, Iceland was actually an adult now, and he could actually adult rather well, as evidenced by his being the only one packing his clothing into his suitcase in an orderly pile of folded pants and shirts. When Iceland failed to respond to Norway's latest attempts, Norway got a move on his own things, grimacing as Denmark decided to sing in the shower.  
  
...Screw this.  
  
Iceland picked up his speed packing, zipped up his suitcase, and vacated the joined hotel rooms as fast as he could. Sweden, Finland, and Sealand were already having breakfast in the hotel lobby; he would just spend some time with them. He grabbed random helpings from the buffet and quickly took the last seat at the table before any more of his relatives could join in. All three of them noticed Iceland's irritation, but it was Sweden who voiced his concern. "What happened?"  
  
"Denmark," Iceland groused, and that was all the explanation they needed. Well, for two of them, at least.  
  
"Pillow fight?" Sealand guessed.  
  
"No."  
  
"Washcloth on your face?"  
  
"Warmer…"  
  
"…. Singing in the shower?" Sealand's face twisted in annoyance at Iceland's nod. Finland looked put out, while Sweden merely offered a roll of his eyes. Iceland, having nothing more to say, dug into his food.  
  
Finland engaged Sweden in some plans they had for hiking in the next week, as well as arrangements for another Nordic get-together soon. The timetable crept towards May, and Iceland decided he would rather not hear any more near-birthday plans. Stuff like that was stupid. Like America's flamboyant celebrations.  
  
…Hm.  
  
He occupied himself with the other hotel guests in the buffet room. Surprisingly, Russia was there, but even more surprisingly, he seemed to be nursing a hangover and an overlarge bottle of vodka. The only other nation in the lobby was Mexico, and he gave the Slavic nation an irritated glare and a wide berth while eating. Iceland had to admire Mexico and the humans around him for not simply surrendering that half of the dining room to Russia's foul mood. Most humans looked alarmed or at the very least wary, but they also did not move to safer ground. Well, that was certainly an improvement over past years...  
  
"Hey guys!"  
  
Every country cringed at Denmark's yell. Hell, Russia actually curled in tighter on himself, willing his headache to fuck off. The noisiest Nordic sat himself at their table with a large _thump_ while Norway smoothly slid in a chair next to Iceland, each of them armed with a plate of food themselves. Thankfully, the Dane seemed so famished he couldn't even ruin the odd family breakfast, and Iceland breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he would actually get some peace and quiet before the final day of the World Meeting.

* * *

Ever since the fiasco at the first World Meeting in 2000, the list of banned materials and equipment in the meetings had easily quadrupled. Even Canada managed to get _maple syrup_ added to the list, and it was generally regarded as an unspoken rule to not bring up the reasons as to why. Briefcases were inspected meticulously and a rule was put in place stating that during World Meetings, all nations had to partake of the lunches offered on conference grounds, rather than letting loose in whatever poor city had the bad luck to host them.  
  
It served as a never-ending conundrum to the human leaders of countries that the nations, some of them four millennia old, could behave so childishly.  
  
The last day of talks saw the countries gathered at the tables, benches, and podiums looking incredibly bored or annoyed. By this point the only topics on the agenda were finalizing certain matters and tabling others, which meant a lot of votes, which meant no slacking off. Denmark looked peeved that his beer had been confiscated, and Norway was getting his jollies goading the now-booze-less nation. Poland kept reading items on the agenda and calling for votes at lightning speed, and Iceland wasn't sure whether or not to be annoyed with his impatience or glad that at least the strange nation was sympathetic to everyone wanting to leave.  
  
Somehow, the votes still took an hour to gather, partially because of some objections no one cared about but mainly because of the corner Russia had been sitting in, which seemed to have been consumed by his hangover-induced aura of malevolence. Even Norway was raising eyebrows at the spectacle. It was well known that Russia was no lightweight, but many countries decided that in this matter, bliss in ignorance outmatched any humor they could get from knowing the circumstances of this once-in-a-century hangover.  
  
"Okay, are we done here? Then, like, get out of my house," Poland snapped. As the other countries began packing their briefcases, the host nation stomped up to Russia and started berating him to leave.  
  
Denmark snickered at the sight. "Hang back, you guys, I wanna see this!" he chuckled.  
  
Norway grabbed Denmark by the ear and tugged, eliciting a yelp. "You're annoying. I want to leave."  
  
However, watching Poland's rising ire had Finland concerned. "Maybe we should stick around in case Russia… Sweden?" Finland glanced up at the stoic nation, who merely nodded his understanding. If Russia was drunk and chose to pick a fight with Poland, Sweden and Denmark would be the ones enlisted to break it up. Sealand, knowing that they wouldn't leave until Russia did, began fidgeting in annoyance.  
  
"Marmite freak-!"  
  
"Wine bastard!"  
  
The Nordics' attention was diverted to the ubiquitous fighting of England and France, who had – to their credit – very _nearly_ made it out the doors of the meeting room before dissolving into a flurry of fists. Off to their right, Canada looked concerned, while America wore the most agitated look they had ever seen. Before Canada could protest, his twin sister had collected her own briefcase off the desk and smacked the older nations over the head with it.  
  
Everyone else in the room seemed alarmed at the violence. "Seriously?" she groused. "No one gives a shit about your cheese." She folded her hands on her hips and glared down at the two dangerously. "We have a little over an hour to get to the airport, and some of us need to make a connecting flight at Heathrow, so you two want to _not_ give security a reason to bust our asses? C'mon," she ordered, and marched out of the room in a huff without so much as a backward glance.  
  
England and France looked perturbed that America had made a rational point, and left without much fuss, guided by Canada. Iceland watched with fascination, very glad that from his vantage point no one could see his face.  
  
For almost two centuries, America had adopted the dress and mannerisms of a man. Apparently, she'd started putting less and less effort into that persona around World War Two, and by the middle of the 1990s she had stopped completely. Russia had turned funny shades at that momentous World Meeting, when she had chosen to adopt a female business suit rather than the male ones she had continued to effect long after her gender became the worst kept secret in the world. Nothing had changed, for the most part, except some countries' mannerisms towards her and the number of dates she was asked on, the latter of which served as a staple gossip topic.  
  
"-ask her out for a drink sometime," Iceland redirected his thoughts toward the present just in time to hear this remark, which earned Denmark another tug on the ear from Norway. The island nation rolled his eyes. Trust Denmark to prove his statement true…  
  
"W-well… we also have flights to take, so we should head to the airport as well," Finland reminded them. The Nordics took one last look in the direction of Russia and Poland… and saw Russia enveloping a squawking Poland in a tight hug. Well… it didn't look like he was intentionally strangling Poland, but the smaller man started screeching about partitions, so the six remaining nations decided to high-tail it out of there before things got even weirder.

* * *

Thankfully, Warsaw Chopin Airport remained relatively free of crowds by the time the Nordics arrived. Despite leaving only a minute or two after Marmite Freak, Wine Bastard, and the North American Twins, the group of six failed to spot them and headed on their way. Flights to Copenhagen, Oslo, and Stockholm would be direct and take very little time at all, but Iceland also had to make a connecting flight at Heathrow, or, as Iceland liked to call it, "England's Gate to Hell."  
  
"Will you be all right flying on your own?"  
  
"Don't forget to constantly watch the boards for any flight changes!"  
  
"Just call us if something goes wrong, okay Icey?!"  
  
Iceland repressed the complaints threatening to boil. Norway's teasing in the hotel room he could handle. This nagging just completely insulted him. He wasn't Sealand, for crying out loud. But all he said, in a sharp tone that would hopefully convey his irritation, was, "I got here fine on my own. Just like I have to every other World Meeting before now."  
  
Finland slightly winced, Sweden nodded, and even Denmark had the decency to blink, but Norway just ruffled his hair. "I still want you to call me when you get home, Ice."  
  
All right, enough was enough. Iceland decided that he'd seen plenty of his Nordic companions for a few months. He swatted Norway's hand away with a scowl, grabbed his suitcase and carry-on, and headed for his gate, leaving the rest of them to mutter awkward, half-apologetic farewells in his wake.  
  
By the time he traversed the airport and checked in for his flight, he felt twinges of guilt at leaving his brother and friends so rudely. But their treatment of him continued to grate, and Iceland scowled again. He was stuck waiting another twenty minutes stewing in his conflicted emotions with nothing to distract him.  
  
Just as he resigned himself to the wait, he heard a laugh ring across the seating area. It took him only a moment to find the source. Canada had his head bent over his phone, and America was laughing at something he was showing her.  
  
Iceland sat across the entire gate waiting area from them. Easily four rows of chairs separated him from them. Most of those chairs were unoccupied, but Iceland felt like a cement wall stood in between him and them. The North American twins had their squabbles, and even a serious fight in 1812, but as far as nations were concerned these twins had lucked out. As far as Iceland knew, only the Italy siblings had a relationship as solid as them. Their profiles mirrored each other, leaned towards the other, firm in the knowledge that each would hold the other up through thick and thin.  
  
England and France sat next to them, but even from this distance Iceland saw that they shared no such bond. While their history tied them together in their complicated love-hate way, the two Europeans did not share the same unguarded trust and innocent, affectionate friendship that their former charges did. France and England conversed between the two of them, rather than interrupt the twins' bonding time.  
  
Iceland wanted to go over and sit with them. The four would welcome him, he knew, because nations rarely got to see each other anymore outside of meetings, and the kinship of a similar existence could outweigh political differences in the grey moments of life such as these. He could sit with them, and they would make small talk, politely enjoying each others' company. But he couldn't stop staring at the invisible cement wall, erected by the unqualified bond Canada and America had.  
  
His gaze lingered on America's outline. Memories and feelings from one thousand years ago drudged themselves up. He tried very hard not to think about them, for so many reasons. They didn't matter now, they were no longer relevant. Recalling them would only bring trouble and conflicting emotions Iceland would rather live without. Thinking about them was more trouble than it was worth.  
  
But in the aftermath of his own messy parting with his family, Iceland couldn't help but think of one person that might have been part of it: the southern sibling leaning against her northern neighbor. Though the Vikings had jointly colonized Vinland for a time, Iceland took it upon himself to travel further south, and he found an infant girl in the care of the natives, and taught her about survival, and fighting, and the pains and pleasures of being part of a family…  
  
A younger sibling he could not, for fear of the potential backlash, reveal to anyone that he had helped raise. Iceland sometimes wondered, at times like these, if America even remembered him from a thousand years before.

...Oh, _that_ was it. _That_ was the heart of this ugliness festering inside of him... He had barricaded himself from his Nordic family, and time itself had risen that cement wall between him and America higher and higher, and as usual the girl was oblivious to the things around her… and she was physically older looking than her… "big brother" now, too...  
  
Iceland saw her jump up as their gate was called for departure, and as he rose slowly and followed them in line to board, he willed himself to keep his face and steel mask at least until he could find solace in his seat near the back of the plane. Then, maybe, he could give over to his moping and for once, act like the child the rest of the Nordics treated him as.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) AU = The Vikings briefly raised Vinland/Canada, and in addition, Iceland traveled further south on his own and found an infant America.
> 
> 2) While I do love me a good "X Nation is opposite gender and hiding it" fic, that is not the focus of this one and you will hear very little mention of it.
> 
> 3) In human years, Iceland is 17 going on 18. He's been managing his own affairs for years and conducts business well, but his relatively younger age compared to the other Nordics, combined with the fact that he is still a teen who has difficulty expressing himself, make communication rather rocky at times.
> 
> 4) No, you don't want to know what Canada did to get maple syrup banned from meetings.
> 
> 5) Nor do you want to know why Russia has a hangover, or the amount/proof of alcohol he had to consume to get it.


End file.
